


Stranger in a Strange Land

by Fallingtowardsoblivion



Series: Amelia's Merlin Bash [5]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Merlin (BBC), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Beating, British Colony, Caribbean Location, Depression, Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of leon/arthur and gwaine/arthur, Mermaid Merlin, Ocean, Storms, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, depressed, imperialization era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallingtowardsoblivion/pseuds/Fallingtowardsoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds himself at the edge of the cliff and the edge of a foreign world. </p><p>Or the fic where mermaid!Merlin just so happens to be at the right place at the right time. </p><p>Prompt: death, catch your breath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger in a Strange Land

**Author's Note:**

> um. I have 8 fics that I need to write for other people and/or fests but of course I had to get out my overflowing levels of depression and angst in a fic. This is unbeta'd, hope you enjoy :P

 A gale was blowing in, and Arthur felt something liberating, releasing, as it whipped his clothing around his body, his hair around his face. Freeing everything, bringing them back to their natural form, bringing him back into the chaos from which he came. Echoing the chaos churning within him.

Arthur stood at the edge of the precipice. Looking outwards, he could see the vast Caribbean, sprawling and awe-inspiring, laid out before him. Alien. Comforting. The usually blue-green waves were whipping about now, grey and cold and dangerous.

A storm was coming.

It would be so simple, leaving. The edge was before Arthur, the cool embrace of this foreign land’s watery depths easily within reach.

It would be so easy.

He could wash himself clean, then. The burning embarrassment and self-hatred inside could be quenched; the bruises on his face and switch marks on his back scrubbed clean.

Arthur swallowed back his hesitation, scrubbing angrily at his cheek as a tear rolled down his face.

He wouldn’t cry. Not for this.

He wasn’t going to end everything in tears. Not this time. Uther might’ve claimed he wasn’t strong – was scum, a monster, disgusting. The other plantation managers might’ve agreed, only too happy to toss their master’s son to the wolves.

But Arthur would prove them wrong.

He didn’t regret laying with Gwaine. He didn’t regret laying with Leon. At least, he did not regret the _act_.

When Uther ordered the stable-hand and over-seer tied to the whipping post, Arthur had begged and pleaded. They had not earned it, they did not deserve it… this was Arthur’s fault.

It had only earned him similar marks on his skin. For his lovers’ pain, Arthur regretted his actions. But never for following his heart. But then again, that didn’t matter when he himself was laid bare, shirt torn off and back lashed until it was bloody and sore. 

None of it mattered.

After all, Uther did not patronized sodomites on his plantation. The only reason Arthur wasn’t next to dead was because he was the man’s own son.

But now, now that didn’t matter. Arthur did not care if he was Uther’s son. He did not care that he threw away his chance of going back to Europe – now deemed too rotten and sinful for university. He didn’t care that he was a stranger in a strange land, standing at the edge of a cliff and watching the waters below.

Because in the end, nothing mattered.

Arthur smiled then, at that thought. It was a soft, regretful thing. The thought – the realization that he was a spec at the edge of eternity – was actually comforting. It confirmed his thoughts. His knowledge that he was insignificant.

Nothing mattered here, at the edge of the world. Not when the air was always heavy with rain and moisture and the beaches were all white and the dirt a strange hue. Not when the sun beat down with unbearable force, making working outside in the fields nearly impossible, and causing skin to redden and burn and peel.

Nothing mattered, not such mortal things at least, in this other world. Arthur was not meant to be here – not in such an untamed land, not in the face of such raw, natural fury.

Nothing mattered save the wild waves below, and the darkening sky above.

Arthur smiled at the thought, the knowledge. He would become part of this nature, would mould himself finally – finally – into the fabric of this land. It would be so easy, so fucking easy.

Soft smile on his lips, Arthur stepped up to the edge of the cliff, looking down and for once feeling no fear – only calm. Calm in the face of the storm, in the depths of its animosity.

And then Arthur spread his arms, breathing in one last lungful of the salty, heavy air, feeling it whip his hair around his face. Powerful. Unabated.

Then, catching his breath, Arthur stepped off the edge.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah my brain was like END IT HERE but um nah, I want to see some Mermaid Merlin action. The fandom doesn't have enough of that shit tbh. Well anyway, hope you enjoyed! <3


End file.
